


Joe Mazzello x Reader - Snow Figures and Smooches

by gingersnaptaff



Category: American (US) Actor RPF, Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 10:35:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17201891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingersnaptaff/pseuds/gingersnaptaff
Summary: Joe and you have fun in the snow





	Joe Mazzello x Reader - Snow Figures and Smooches

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shiretotowntonation](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiretotowntonation/gifts).



It’s  _freezing_. Everything is white and the ground is blanketed with powdery snow, looking almost like confectioner’s sugar. Fine particles are sticking to your eyelashes, dotting your skin with water as they melt when you blink and your breath comes out in steam. Even the sky, normally a vivid blue or a hazy cerulean, seems white, as though someone has leeched all the colour out of the sky, like a pile of bleached linens. It’s dreamlike in appearance and could be forgiven for thinking that you are, in fact, in a dream.

The chill, however, acutely reminds you that this is in fact  _very_  real. The howling wind cuts through your bones, shaking your core, and every time you take a breath your chest aches from the frigid air. The trees, their boughs full of white, are bending dangerously in the wind, twigs bouncing and leaves flying. The clouds are whipping up, streaking across the sky and covering the sun’s pale rays. You have to burrow yourself deeper into your coat to try and escape the frost as you follow Joe further into the thicket of trees.

He is a few feet ahead of you, bundled up in hat, scarf, coat, and gloves waddling as if he were a penguin. Your shoes crunch upon the snow, soaking into your trousers and you shiver. Joe, however, seems fine surprisingly enough for a redhead. The temperature does not bother him too much and you huff out a breath, voicing your irritation in a particularly loud sigh as you finally close the gap and tap him on the shoulder.

He turns. His brown eyes are wide for a moment in fear. His body is trembling slightly, desperately trying to suppress the full on shivering fit that it wants to go into, and you voice an apology, teeth chattering.

“I - It’s alright,” He says. His nose is cherry red and his cheeks are flushed pink. He beams at you, takes you by the arm and leads you further on to where the trees thin out and a wide expanse of flat ground is.

“What are you doing?” You say, “Why are we here?”

Joe gives you a grin, looking like a cat that’s just gotten the proverbial cream.

“You’ll see!” His voice is filled with childlike excitement and you laugh at his antics.

“We’re not having a snowball fight, are we?”

“You’ll see,” he insists, making a zip motion across his lips and you groan. Your curiosity is piqued.

“No, seriously, Joseph, if it’s a snowball fight I am turning around and walking away.” You huff and it takes him a moment to see that you’re joking. You’re biting down on your bottom lip to desperately try and stifle your laughter and he gives a hum of disapproval and a small glare.

“Don’t say that,” he cries, smacking your shoulder and crossing his arms over his chest. For a moment it looks as though he too is seriously considering walking away from you. There is snow sticking to his eyelashes, to his cheeks and he looks adorable if rather moody.

“You know I wouldn’t really, right? I love snowball fights.” You say, moving a little further away from him and bending down to kneel in a patch of snow, piling some of it into a shape and hearing the satisfying crunch as it forms into the shape that you want.

Joe’s face is a picture of shock. “You’re not – you’re not gonna have a snowball fight now, are you? At least allow me to make some defences. You’ve already thrown twelve of them at me today and I could do without more.”

You snigger, “After you threw them at me, you mean. I was defending myself from you, but, no, it isn’t a snowball,” You say squinting up at him, shielding your eyes from the sun’s rays that do make it through the bank of clouds above you. Your gloves are wet and so are your knees, the icy water seeping through the wool and making your skin burn as though it has been hit with acid. You can barely move your fingers and Joe is just standing above you, watching you with fascination.

“What are you doing then, Angela?” His voice is soft, and he kneels down to your level, eyes flicking back and forth from you to the snow.

“Building,” you say, giving him a smile, moving your hand away from your face and he laughs.

“Oh,” Is all he can think of to say, a puzzled look on his face, “What are you building?”

“You’ll see,” your voice an exact parrot of his own and he glowers, shaking his head and pouting a little.

“Why do you have to be so secretive?”

“I could ask you the exact same thing, love.” You tease and Joe rolls his eyes, shifting his weight so that his legs do not get tired.

Y’know, if you were anybody else I’d fling a snowball at you right about now.” He says, “That was uncalled for.”

“Very true though.” You murmur, going back to piling snow upon snow to craft your masterpiece. The shape of two small people forms slowly, your hands growing redder and redder with the cold, even with the warmth of your gloves and you have to stop every so often to rest on your haunches so you don’t hurt your back too much. Joe is watching in silence, his head bowed, fingers gripping the snowy ground in an effort to help him not tip over onto the bank of snow that your fingers haven’t raked through.

“Are you making us?” he says, face scrunched up in question and you nod, absorbed in your task. “It’s – They’re beautiful.” His voice is reverent and you suppress a smile. “Although, I just wanna say that that’s some Game of Thrones type stuff,” He says, and you break into a fit of giggles for a moment, before sobering up and sniggering. “How the  _hell_  did you even make that?” Joe says still in awe of you.

“With my  _hands_ , silly,” You say, rolling your eyes exaggeratedly and Joe shakes his head at you, pretending to be exasperated.

“Alright, I just asked. Don’t be rude or I’ll throw a snowball at you.”

“Right of course,” you say, shaking your head at Joe nods, a cocky smirk on his face.

It is silent for a few moments as you go back to building the tiny snow figures of Joe and yourself, the occasional crunch of snow from Joe’s direction is all the sound here is apart from the howling wind.

“We should totally have a snowball fight.” Is the first thing that slips out of his mouth and you can see him inwardly curse himself for that. His lips are set in a thin line and there is a look of disapproval on his face.

You hum in agreement absentmindedly and look up for a moment. Joe’s face is a close to yours, so close in fact that you can see the droplets of water on his eyelashes, the freckles on the bridge of his nose, and the glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

“What are you up to?” you say, raising an eyebrow and he huffs out a laugh. Every time he insists on a snowball fight something happens and you’re getting wise to his antics now.

“Nothing, nothing,” For all his attempts at forming a fantastic poker face it’s marred somewhat by the corners of his mouth and his nose crinkling as he desperately tries not to smile once again.

“Joe, please, just tell me.” Your voice is a whisper and he takes a moment to respond. The birds that have not been scared away by the cold are chirping a little overhead, their trilling a cheerful offset to the bleak beauty of the landscape around you.

Joe cannot meet your eyes at first; he stands, fingers pressing even more into the snow to help lift himself off of the ground and rubs his hands together, the material of his gloves is wet. An air of bashfulness has enveloped his entire being and you find yourself standing up too, tilting your head slightly and drawing a strand of hair away from your face.

“I was gonna do this later,” he mumbles, “I was gonna sit down and do some lovey-dovey stuff. I had it all planned out.”

“What planned out?” It is your turn to be confused now, lines of questioning etched on your face and Joe purses his lips, mulling over what to say before-

“Will you marry me?” It’s hesitant, his shoulders are slumped minutely as though he expects your reply to be a solid no already and your answering cackle startles him, his eyes widen is shock and his head flies up in surprise. Your body is shaking with mirth, the cackles leave you gasping for breath and you think you might cry a little you’re laughing so hard.

“Y’know,” he says, rather coolly a bite of sarcasm colouring his words, “This wasn’t the reaction I was expecting. I’d planned for every other one but not you laughing madly on a hill, I have to say, Angi.”

You snort, “I didn’t exactly plan to be making snow figurines whilst you try and propose to me but here we are.”

“So… is it a yes? The laughing wasn’t really an answer and the sarcasm doesn’t help me at all.”

“What do you think?” Your voice is soft and you give him a smile.

“I uh… Are you being sarcastic again?”

“Joe! I was trying to be cute.” You huff, and he giggles.

“I thought that was my job?” he teases and you give him a fond look, a beaming smile on your lips.

“You do an awful job of it, love.” There is a bantering note in your voice and Joe laughs.

“I try; no one can say that I don’t try.”

“That’s true.” You say, before going silent, staring at the sky overhead. It has turned from white into a murky sort of grey now and you shiver again. Joe draws you closer to him, wrapping his arms around you and you sigh contentedly.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he says, and you laugh, pressing a light kiss to his cheek, feeling the coldness of his skin.

“Yes, I’ll marry you.” Joe gives a little scream of delight, one that’s higher than you thought he could actually go and it leaves your ears ringing for a moment. You yelp in surprise as he picks you up and spins you around in happiness, like something out of a movie, and you very nearly lose your hat in the process. You have to clamp a hand onto the back of your head to ensure that the woolly black cap does not fall onto the ground and you yell to be put back down, laughter bubbling up in you. Joe’s face is flushed even more now, a true red instead of the pink it was before, and he giggles intermittently, desperately trying to calm down.

“It’s not the proposal I was expecting.” He says once he’s sobered up.

“Normal is boring,” you say, your voice airy and he chuckles again, drawing you closer to him again, pressing kisses your forehead and jaw line and you see him trying to suppress his shock at what you say next. “But if you put any snow down my back the deal’s off and I’m taking the cats.”

“What about-?”

“And Johnny. I’m taking Johnny too.” You say, voice steely and Joe rolls his eyes.

“You’ll have a menagerie then.” he teases, “You’ll have to look after them but who’ll look after you?”

“I could always move in with Ben,” you joke and he gawps at you, mouth agape and opening and closing like a fishes.

“I object!” he yells, “I’m moving in with Ben.”

“Nuh uh. What would Ben Cardy say?”

“I – I,” He is silent for a moment, trying to avoid your gaze and not smile; “Don’t you bring him into this!”

You both cackle, high pitched and melodic, leaning on each other to support yourselves until the laughter subsides and splutter, heaving air into your lungs.

Joe smiles, pulling you forward again and into his arms, his hands are warm upon your back and you can feel the heat seeping in through your coat, “I love you, Angela.”

“I love you too.” You say.

Joe’s lips are cold against your own and you’re shivering again, anticipation hot in your veins as he presses butterfly kisses against your lips and your cheeks, making you laugh again. He leads you away from the clearing, the two snow figures of you both watching the sunset, the bird’s tunes being carried by the wind to you as walk back down the hill.


End file.
